


The Viper The Princess The Lover & The Sentry

by pettyprocrastination



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gore, Oberyn Martell Lives, Past Sexual Assault, Religious Guilt, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Smut, description of violence, oberyn martell/reader - Freeform, specifically whippings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettyprocrastination/pseuds/pettyprocrastination
Summary: You are the sworn knight and protector of princess Domentzia, the daughter of the king of Fioria. A nation who’s existence was previously unknown to Westeros. In an attempt to create alliance with the people in Westeros, Domentzia’s father has her sent away to Dorne to marry Prince Oberyn Martell, who’s had cruel rumors of his actions as a warrior and vile sexual appetites whispered in the ears of the terrified princess since the announcement of their engagement. Her only solace? Knowing her beloved friend and protector will be by her side.
Relationships: Ellaria Sand/Reader, Oberyn Martell & Reader, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/Reader, Oberyn Martell/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	The Viper The Princess The Lover & The Sentry

“What do you think it will be like there?”

The gentle swaying of the ship should have calmed the jittery princess, but she continued to pace endlessly. You were surprised she hadn’t worn herself out yet. 

“Hot,” You answered plainly. “You’ll probably have to change clothes.”

As a proper Fiorian woman, Domentzia wore large gowns with heavy layers and extravagant embroideries that kept her warm and showed her status as the king’s daughter. Such things wouldn’t do her any good in the sweltering heat. 

Nor would your armor. 

She looked at you and huffed, pink lips curled into a pout that you had been on the receiving end of for years now. Yet the sight still made you roll your eyes and ignore the rapid beating of your heart hidden by your chestplate. 

“I will not be stripped of my true roots so easily.” She listened to the men above them, the heavy footsteps nearly drowned out by the noise of the ebb and flow of the waves they rode. 

It would have been relaxing, if not for the nature of the trip.

Shipped off like cattle, to a country she’s never been to, to a continent she had only learnt existed months before her journey, to marry a man she’d never met. 

“My soon-to-be husband will have to try harder to break me.”

Your hand gripped the hilt of your sword. “If he does, then Dorne will mourn a fallen prince.”

Her only comfort was knowing that you, her faithful sentry, her beloved knight, would be at her side through it all. 

A small smile graced her lips at your words. You always made her smile, even in her darkest moments. 

“I’d make a lovely second widow.”

“Aye.”

The small moment of peace you gave her was shattered when the door was pushed open. “We are approaching Dorne, my lady, if you would like to see.”

Domentzia took a deep breath before nodding. When preparing for the meeting of her first husband, she had been so excited and overjoyed to meet her love. 

But now she knew better.

“Yes, thank you. I should like to see my new home.”

Prison was a better word, but you kept your mouth shut as you led her to the deck. 

The waters were tempting, a magnificent flittering blue that showed her shimmering reflection back at her. Oh, how she wished nothing more than to dive in, feel the coolness against her skin and forget where she was, who she was, and what she had to do. 

“The prince will be meeting us at the port, m’lady.” You stood at her side, watching the wind dance through her blonde hair as she stared at the nearing town. Her hands gripped the fabric of her skirt, large and layered and embroidered, with such tension you thought she may tear it. 

You laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, the tightness in her form melted away. 

“No snake will sink its fangs into you, princess. I promise you that much.”

She knew you would keep your word, even if it meant dirtying your hands. You had proved it to her before in such ways she’d never forget. 

Domentzia only hoped you wouldn't have to do so again. 

The man waiting at the docks for her had dark skin and darker hair. He stood with an air of regality, fine clothes, but a kind smile as she was ushered off the ship with you behind her. 

The men’s fashion in Dorne was starkly different to that of Fiorire. The man’s clothing was slimming, fit to his body and in a dark brown with gold embroidery over the sleeves and pant legs. 

He was handsome, and smiled warmly as he took her trembling hand in his before pressing it to his lips in a sign of respect. 

“Princess Domentzia, I welcome you to Dorne.” His voice held an accent that she’d never heard before, words rolling off his tongue in a way that made her want to hear him speak more. “Though it is different than your homeland, I hope you find comfort here.”

Dometzia smiled. Stiffly, you noted. Not the bright grin that showed her dimples and the apples of her cheek. One that was small and practiced. Like all the ladies of the court who taught her to do so. 

“Prince Oberyn, it’s an honour.” She took her skirt in her hands and curtseyed. “I’m sure if your home is as lovely as the rest of your country, I will enjoy it greatly.”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “I am afraid I am not your betrothed.”

Domentzia tensed. “Oh?”

“Yes.” Doran bowed his head. “I am Prince Doran Martell, his elder brother.”

You could cut the tension in their air with your blade. If anything you wanted to, just so the focus would be on something else. If things were done your way, you would have told the prince to get to the fucking point by now. But things weren’t done like that. 

On account of diplomacy and such. 

“Prince Oberyn is-” Doran sighed. “-at home. In Sunspear.”

“I see,” Domentzia said. “Will my betrothed be meeting us then?”

Doran’s shoulders tightened. It seemed like a common appearance on him, you thought. He must be used to his brother’s actions. 

_The responsible one is the eldest,_ you told yourself. _Makes for a suitable ruler, thank the Heavens._

“Yes, he will be at our home in SunSpear.” He set a hand over hers with a comforting pat. “He will be joyed by your safe arrival. We may speak more on the journey to your new home.”

He led her to the wheelhouse that would take them to SunSpear. You took her hand in yours and helped her in, the princess let out a surprised squeak as you lifted her into the carriage, before Doran entered behind her. As he began to shut the door, the princess’ hand shot out against it. 

_“No!”_ she shouted, causing the man to freeze and the guards to reach for their swords. Poor Domentzia, realized how loud and inappropriate she had been and immediately shrunk back. 

“My apologies, Prince Doran, I only hoped that my guard would ride with me. If you will allow it.”

Doran’s eyes flicked over to you, a broad woman in armor, whose hand had stayed on the hilt of her sword ever since you had left the ship. Every time your eyes landed on somebody, you seemed to pick them apart, analyze them, as if you were always coming up with a plan of attack or escape. 

“If it pleases you, Princess, then of course.”

Having you by her side pleased Domentzia more than anybody could ever know. 

You had been in Domentzia’s employ for years, now. Other guards failed at wrangling her to her studies when she was younger, and never succeeded at halting her from slipping out of the castle late at night.

You, however, were victorious in doing both. Domentzia never thought she’d be so happy to have somebody that would be at her side day and night. 

“I’m sure it must be frightening,” Doran tells her as the town passes you, landscape changing slowly as you travel. “To be sent off to a place you had only just learned of the year prior. I wouldn’t know the feeling, especially given your previous’ husband passing.”

Domentzia bowed her head. “Yes, loving my beloved just after our marriage was heartbreaking. But-” She fisted the fabric of her skirt and looked up at Doran nervously. 

“Does that bother your brother? That I am a woman without virtue?”

Your grip on the hip of your sword tightened. Virtue, in your opinion, was a pile of horseshit. 

Where was virtue in a world where women cried into their bedsheets after consummating their marriage to a man who did not listen to their pleas? Where was virtue in a world where princesses were sold off to lords like livestock? Where was virtue in a world where the only way you could keep her safe was by causing violence?

There was no virtue in the world of Fioria. 

Doran offered her a sympathetic smile. “You needn’t worry, princess. Here in Dorne we believe one’s virtue is in their heart, not between their legs.” 

… but perhaps there was in Dorne.

“Free love is a common practice in our country.” Doran could see the way the Princess’ eyes widened at his words.

“Really?” she gasped as she leaned forward in her excitement. “Back home, that would be reason for arrest!” “Well here, it is simply a practice of love.” He cleared his throat. “One my brother indulges, _quite_ frequently.”

“Oh, yes.” Domentzia had heard of how Oberyn sired eight daughters from different women. 

Among other things she had whispered and sneered at her at the announcement of their engagement. 

Such as that he’s a cruel man with sexual appetites that no virgin may satiate. That he’s killed men for merely looking at him wrong. That he slicks his daggers in poison so the smallest cut will cause your death. 

Her fiancé. 

Doran rubbed at his knee nervously before looking at the pair of you. 

“I will be upfront with you, Domentzia. Oberyn is… less than thrilled about the engagement,” he told her in a nervous tone. 

You remember the way you held her as she wept into your chest the entire night upon hearing the news. 

_Like husband, like wife, I suppose._

“I understand.” Domentzia fiddled with her hands as she spoke, her gaze often flitting to the end of her dress before glancing up at Doran finally. “It must be hard to leave behind such a life.”

The prince sighed and she forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat before she spoke.

“Or will he not be leaving that life behind?” She sounded so weak, like a fractured glass that would shatter into a million pieces at the slightest break.

Doran’s brown eyes shone with pity, while hers shone with tears. 

And yours with hatred. 

What entity did she wrong so horribly that they would not grace her with the simple kindness of a good husband?

"Oberyn is a man who is content to take as many lovers as he pleases. Please know his animosity, if he has any, will not be towards you, my lady."

He leaned forward to set a hand on her knee in a sign of comfort, he took note of the way you tightened your grip on your sword as he did. 

“Dorne, though it may be new and frightening to you, is a safe place. And as for my brother-” He blew out a frustrated breath, “-though he can be a great annoyance, is not cruel to innocent women such as yourself. You will not be harmed in SunSpear, I swear to you."

“And if this swear is broken?” 

Doran’s eyes flicked to yours, as did the princess’. Your voice was rough and uncut as you spoke. You looked at the prince of Dorne as if he were nothing but an obstacle in your way, somebody who needed to be cut down. 

“Then your princess shall see satisfaction by anyways necessary.”

He had heard the rumors, about the death of her previous husband. Some whispered she was the one who did it, who killed the man in a shadowy alley by the brothel he was leaving. It wasn’t until he first saw her leave the ship that he wondered how a woman who was hardly 5’5 and looked ready to keel over at the slightest wind could accomplish such a brutal act. 

But as he looked at you, he understood perfectly. 

The three of you continued on in silence. Domentzia watched the landscape pass them by, of beautiful flowers and glittering seas, but none of it gave her comfort. Her only source of relief in the form of your armor-clad figure at her side.


End file.
